Bored
by HowlingMary79
Summary: Sherlock is bored and it's up to John to cheer him up. ONE SHOT.


My first Sherlock story. I don't own the BBC characters. Comments are well appreciated.

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"Sherlock, give me the gun!" Watson asked in a half-worried, half-annoyed tone.

Sherlock shrugged his shoulders in a silent reply and continued to stare at the face in front of him, a vacantexpression on his face.

"You're going to hurt someone, please, Sherlock," John pleaded in a firm tone.

The detective didn't bother replying but gave another shrug. His posture didn't change, his expression dark as he pointed the gun again and closed one eye to better take aim.

John decided it was time to end this nonsense situation. With a single swift movement, he was beside the other man and took the gun out of his hand, not allowing him time to react.

The detective dropped his arm on the armchair he was half-sitting and half-slumped on, a frown forming between his eyebrows. He huffed and slumped even more into the leather of his seat.

"Why do you always have to be so childish?" John asked then.

"Leave me alone, John," he answered finally, gesturing with his hands for Watson to go away.

Watson was exasperated. He really couldn't understand why his friend was behaving this way. He decided to try one more time to coax Sherlock to talk to him, otherwise he would just ignore him. At least now Sherlock couldn't shoot at the yellow face on the wall.

The doctor was thinking what the right thing to say was, elbows on his knees, head bowed and eyes on his crossed hands, when he sensed Sherlock was staring at him. He lifted his head and flinched backwards when he found Sherlock's face very close to his.

"What?" Holmes asked.

"You were staring at me," the doctor replied.

"You were lost deep in your thoughts, might I know if it was something important?"

Watson gave a small nervous laugh.

The frown between Sherlock's eyebrows increased. He was deducing something from the doctor, looking at him as if he was some kind of lab animal. Watson could almost hear Sherlock's mind working.

"Would you please stop doing that, Sherlock!" he almost yelled as he stood up.

"I'm just trying to keep my mind occupied with… something, and you were an interesting subject for once."

"Oh thank you, Sherlock. Thank you very much."

"I don't see the point in being annoyed. I actually complimented you. The only possible and logical reaction is to thank me, John."

"Didn't I do that before?"

"Yes, in fact you did. But it was clear you were mocking me."

"Oh, for God's sake Sherlock, shut up!"

"If you are not interested in my opinions, John, you're free to… to go out. Do what you usually do when you're not with me and leave me alone."

And he was silent again.

Watson turned to look at his friend, arms crossed on his chest and a hurt expression on his perfectly shaven face, and tried not to laugh at his childish behaviour.

The detective needed something to work on, two days of forced rest since their last case were clearly enough to drive him mad. Sherlock needed to have his mind constantly working on something, he wasn't able to simply "rest" for a while. The ex-army doctor wondered how Sherlock's mother survived the experience of bringing up a genius with such a temper.

Thinking of Sherlock as a child made him smile. Watson's anger was gone.

He knelt down in front of his mate, so he could look him directly in the eye.

"Sherlock, I know you are bored…"

"Exactly, I'm bored."

"So what can I do to amuse you?"

Sherlock eyed him suspiciously.

"Define "amuse"."

"Entertain you, then."

"That's better. Better choice of words."

"So?"

"So what? I told you I' D, there is no _entertainment_ to change this!"

"We can play cards."

"Cards?"

"Yes, cards. Why not?"

"I'm going to win over you. That's not funny."

"Ah, well, thank you Sherlock, but I don't mind losing to you on a card game."

"I meant it's not funny for me. To always win."

"Oh, I see. Chess, then."

"I used the chessboard on an experiment, we can't play chess anymore."

"Sherlock, it was my chessboard! How dare you?"

"You were out of sight and I couldn't contact you to ask for your permission."

"You could have texted me… Ok, what happened to the chessboard?"

"Destroyed."

"Destroyed?"

"Actually burnt."

"Burnt?!"

"Yes, what's the big deal which way it's gone?"

"Sherlock, I swear if you ever try to steal something from me again…"

"I didn't steal it from you. It was on the table, where you left it the last time we played. I didn't burn it on purpose, the experiment went wrong."

Watson sighed.

"Operation is it then."

"Operation?"

"Yes, Operation."

"You don't like playing Operation, John."

"Well, it's not my favourite table game, but that's not the point."

"That's exactly the point. Are you telling me you are willing to play a game that doesn't amuse you?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I am going to do."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Sherlock, can you just drop the matter?"

"No, sorry John, I can't do it."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't understand how your mind works. It doesn't follow any logic."

"Sherlock, I am your friend. Friends do things to just please each other even if they are not inclined to."

The detective frowned.

"All clear now?" Watson asked then.

"Are you my friend, John?"

"Yes, Sherlock. I am your friend."

"And am I your friend?"

"Yes, you are."

"Do you like me?"

"Sherlock, can we just play, please?"

"Of course, John."

The detective hurried to retrieve the table game where Mycroft left it the last time he visited his brother. He was now wearing a small satisfied smile on his face and John was happy that his friend was calmer and relatively in peace.


End file.
